Citrus Confessions
by marciemarciemarcie
Summary: Fifty drabbles about the caustic chef Chase and the sweet farmer Angela. 11/10
1. Honey

**Citrus Confessions**

* * *

><p><strong>Honey<strong>

Three weeks into their marriage, Chase asked a simple question that changed everything.

"How's your breakfast, honey?"

Angela froze up and stared at him, wide-eyed, slack-jawed, forkful of pancakes halfway up to her mouth. "What... What did you say?"

Chase, sitting across from her, looked innocently confused. "Um, I said, do you like your breakfast, honey?"

He'd called her Honey.

_Honey. _

She was his Honey.

The word made her smile and her heart melted like the butter on her pancakes. "I love it."


	2. Waiting

**Waiting**

The front door creaked as Chase tip-toed inside. It was pitch black, almost two in the morning, and the house was tranquil. He pulled the keys out of the lock and shut the door behind him.

Exhausted, he raked a hand through his hair. He loved his job, but he hated the long, grueling hours that kept him away from his wife. They never got to spend the day together unless she came in for a drink or it was Sunday. He missed her sometimes.

On his way to the bedroom, he passed by the living room but stopped when he saw slight movement in his peripheral vision. On the couch inside lay Angela, one hand dangling off, the other folded over her stomach. Her lips were parted slightly and her eyes were closed. She was asleep.

Chase shook his head and walked over to her. Gently, he lifted her off the couch, bridal style, and carried her down the hall towards their bedroom. The movement must've woke her because her eyelids fluttered open halfway. He stopped, surprised. She looked up at him glazedly.

"Hey," he whispered, "What're you doing out of bed?"

Angela didn't answer right away. She closed her eyes again and rubbed them with her fists. "I was..." she yawned, and it was adorable. "I was waiting for you... to come home," she murmered, "'cause I missed you."

Chase was utterly touched. He gave her a tender smile. "I'm here now. Go back to sleep."

"Oh... Okay..." She nuzzled to his chest and sighed. By the time they got to the bedroom she was back sound asleep. He pulled back the covers, laid her down carefully, and pulled them up to her chin. She looked so content, a vague smile on her lips. He bent down, swept aside her bangs, and pressed a light, chaste kiss to her forehead.

"Sweet dreams."


	3. Mess

**Mess**

"What in the Goddess's name are you _doing?"_

He left her alone for five minutes, only five. Hardly any time at all. And now he was pulling at his hair, utterly distraught, staring at the mess in his kitchen. She gripped an empty bag of flour, upside-down, the contents absolutely everywhere. There was egg on the now white counter top and she had batter on her – _his_ – apron and on her cheek. He wanted to cry. His precious kitchen!

She grinned sheepishly, "... Making pancakes?"


	4. Hurt

**Hurt**

"Ow, ow, ow!"

She recoiled from the stovetop wrenched her hand back, tears welling in her eyes already. She was so unobservant, always doing things wrong; now she had gone and burned herself because she wasn't paying attention. "Ow..." Her fingers stung and she gritted her teeth, gripping them in her other hand. "Ow..." She wished she knew first aid. She wished she just paid _attention._

"Angela? You okay?" Chase's rich voice rang in the air. A moment later he walked in, eyebrows furrowed. "Ah, burn yourself?" Angela nodded meekly, feeling embarrassed.

"I'm such an airhead," she mumbled, "I put my hand on the stove." He nodded simply and left, coming back again a minute later with a roll of gauze.

"We're gonna need to clean this off, and then I'll wrap it up for you." He turned on the cold water and rinsed her fingers under the tap, taking the sting off. Then he carefully dried them with a hand towel, wrapping them in gauze. "Feel any better? Want me to kiss it for you?" She nodded with a giggle and he took her hand, lips brushing her skin, making her heart spark. "All better?"

"Now that I think about it," she said with a smirk, "my lips hurt too."


	5. Handsome

**Handsome**

Chase was so handsome.

The way his lovely violet eyes shone in the light was breathtaking. Angela could stare into those eyes all day and not get tired of the sight. They lit up when he was cooking, and he smiled. When he smiled, he looked like a happy child, so much so that she had to actually _fight_ the urge to hug him close. And his hair - peach blonde, unruly, curling every-which-way. She wished her hair was so beautiful. Hers was plain, curling halfway down but certainly not as gorgeously. Her eyes were dull, calf brown. He was tall and lean, and she was small and rugged from farming. Everyone thought Chase was perfect. No one thought much of her at all.

She was plain. He was beautiful.

"What're you looking at, farm girl?"

Angela blanched and realized she'd been staring. His lovely violet eyes glared down at her, annoyed, and she looked away, sipping her drink, muttering an apology. Seeming satisfied, he turned back to his cooking. When he was completely consumed in his work, she resumed watching, a slight smile creeping up on her lips.

If only his personality were so handsome.


	6. Date

**Date**

He's nervous, an absolute wreck. His hands shake as he grips his sandwich, nearly smashing it in his fingers. Angela, munching happily away from him across the picnic blanket, raises an eyebrow but says nothing. She probably thinks he's acting ridiculous, but he can't help how she makes him feel.

When they finish the sandwiches he attempts a conversation. His usual eloquence, however, deems this to be an appropriate time to disappear and he finds himself stammering unintelligible syllables, blushing wildly. "Um... Y-You look nice today. N-Not that you usually don't, because you do, but – Er, what I mean is – I mean, you look really cute today. M-More than usual, which is already a lot, but – I mean – I-Isn't the weather just lovely?"

Angela stares at him for a moment, utterly perplexed, and then breaks off into laughter. His cheeks burn and he wishes that the fall breeze would blow him far, far away. It's an entire minute before she stops laughing, but she's smiling _that smile_ at him so he has to forgive her. "You're so _cute," _she giggles, and scoots to sit next to him. His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as she grabs his arm and nuzzles close. "Don't be so nervous. We _both_ agreed to this, remember?" She smiles up at him and he smiles back.

"Yeah, well..." He rubs the back of his neck and they drift into serene silence, watching the clouds pass by overhead. The weather atop Moon Hill_ is_ lovely, and it's a welcome distraction from stammering compliments.

He's never been good when it comes to the first date.


	7. Humiliated

**Humiliated**

"You're such a nuisance," Chase snapped, interrupting her in the middle of a long-winded story about her cows. "Can't you see that I'm working here?" He brushed her off so brusquely, turning back to his pot of simmering souffle. Angela's face fell.

"Well, excuse me for wanting to make pleasant conversation," she grumbled. "Why do I even bother talking to you every day?"

"I don't know, nor do I _care_ to know. Now get out. You're distracting me from my work."

Angela gaped at him. She narrowed her eyes and balled her fists. "Fine!" she shouted, eyes scrunched shut in a pathetic show of fury. Everyone turned to stare, some snickering. "Fine! I'll leave! But I just hope you know that you're the biggest jerk I've ever met!"

"Tell 'im," someone shouted as she stormed out. There was an eruption of whooping, drunken laughter and as she brushed past him he could've sworn he saw tears in her eyes.


	8. One

**One**

Fall was a lonely season. The jaded leaves were only now able to show their true colors, and at the same time they were dying away, so bittersweetly. She kicked them out of her way as she shuffled down the path to home, head down, hands shoved in her pockets.

A brisk breeze tugged gently at her hair and the fringe of her scarf. She turned her face to the sky and sighed to the heavens, closing her eyes, allowing serenity sweep her unrest away. It worked for a moment. Then the clock tower's bell pealed and she was brought back to reality.

As she trudged home, it struck her: _was_ this even a reality? Here she was, running around, collecting ingredients to make rainbows for sprites that only she could see, in order to rescue a goddess that was hidden away. What the _hell_ would her_ family_ think if they knew where she was, what she was doing? They'd think she was crazy. Just like the town did. She wasn't deaf or dumb; She heard the jeers at the bar. She heard the whispers as she passed them on the cobblestone streets. "_Goddess, magic, fairies? What a loon." "She still believes in that shit? Ridiculous." _But couldn't they see the rainbows? Couldn't they see how much better things were now?

No. All they could see was a scared, crazy girl, lost in her imagination.

Maybe she _was_ crazy. Running off, starting a farm in the middle of a desolate land, a place the size of a stadium parking lot. Trying so hard to please everyone when they wanted no part of her. It was a lonely existence that not even her cows could fill.

Her train of thought derailed as she collided with another warm body. She stumbled back and saw Chase glowering at her. Without a word, without even a reprimand, he clicked away in his sandals. She turned and stared after him, dumbfounded. She scowled at his retreating figure and cupped her cracked, cold, calloused hands around her mouth."I'm not sorry!" she shouted, feeling lightheaded and delirious. "I'M NOT SORRY!" He granted her absolutely no reaction.

It was like she didn't exist.

She turned on the heels of her boots and broke into a run. When she got home, she threw the door open and slammed it shut behind her. She ripped off her hat and tore off her gloves. She flew out of her boots and onto the bed, burying her face in coat-clad arms, and just cried. She cried and cried and cried.

One was the loneliest number.


	9. Jealousy

**Jealousy**

The crickets outside of Sundae Inn chirped loudly as Chase scrubbed the dishes. The bar was full to bursting with people milling about clumsily, buzzed from cocktails and ale. The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened as the tower outside tolled eleven. Where was Angela? She always came in at eight, nine at the latest. Always talked to him, always brought him orange juice and a bright smile. Where could she be?

He turned around nonchalantly and scanned the crowd for the millionth time, looking for a trace of her. Worry turned to indignation as he spotted her at a corner booth... with Luke. She hadn't even let him know she was _there!_ Anger flared inside him, singing his insides, making him feel sick. Kathy nudged him and he jumped. He'd forgotten she existed. "Chase, yer staring holes into poor Luke's brain. Lord knows he don't need any more damage in the noggin."

"Whatever, Kath." He rolled his eyes impatiently and she tried in vain to supress a smirk, feigning an epiphany.

"Oh my Goddess, is Chasie-poo jealous of Luke 'n Ange?"

That did it. "No, I am _not_ jealous of that imbecile!" he snapped, temper flaring wildly, "Now leave me alone so I can_ work!"_

Kathy raised an eyebrow at him but he ignored her fully, washing the dishes in an angry flurry, droplets of water going everywhere. "Jealous," he scoffed to himself when everyone was out of earshot. "Jealous. Ha, that's funny."

Okay... So maybe he was.

Just a little.


	10. Kiss

**Mess**

"What in the Goddess's name are you _doing?"_

He left her alone for five minutes, only five. Hardly any time at all. And now he was pulling at his hair, utterly distraught, staring at the mess in his kitchen. She gripped an empty bag of flour, upside-down, the contents absolutely everywhere. There was egg on the now white counter top and she had batter on her – _his_ – apron and on her cheek. He wanted to cry. His precious kitchen!

She grinned sheepishly, "... Making pancakes?"


	11. Love

**Love**

She loved him dearly with every little bit of her heart. His smile; his eyes; his laugh; his frown; his _everything_. Angela was hopelessly enamored with Chase, and she knew it'd never change - never, ever, ever.

She knew he loved her too. He was kind to her, he defended her, he joked around with her, and he told her she was adorable. She caught his gaze lingering on her face many a time at the bar, and when she smiled and told him so he'd always look away and blush, or deny it vehemently. He took her to festivals, he danced with her when Hayden turned on the radio, and he kissed her on the nose, making her cross her eyes, and then he'd laugh and ruffle her hair.

He never actually said "I love you", but she was sure. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in his touch, and sometimes when she fell asleep in his arms, in limbo between consciousness and the dream world, she thought she heard him whisper it. He held her when she cried and he drew a smile on her pancakes with maple syrup.

If that wasn't love, she didn't know what love was.


End file.
